Roses And Thorns
by Moonlit Dreaming
Summary: Gray knew that moving on from Mary was never going to be easy, but by promising that he'll never give up on her, is he just making things worse for himself? FoMT, In Progress.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**- Harvest Moon does** not** belong to me. 

**Author's note-** Yep, another long-fic. And don't worry, Tales of a Traveller is not being abandoned; I posted Chapter 5 not long ago actually and I intend to keep updating it. Besides, chances are this'll only be a few short chapters long anyway. A short long-fic if you know what I mean. The first chapter's just a prologue, which is why it's_ very_ short. The other chapters will definitely be longer. Enjoy!

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Prologue

Gray hated farmers. Especially the dark haired, hansome ones that swooped in and stole girlfriends from unsuspecting Blacksmiths. _They_ were the worst.

This same rather depressing thought returned to him day after day as he tried to work out what to do with his time. The problem was that he used to go to the Library, but that was obviously not an option anymore. _She'd_ be there, she always was. She, if you were wondering, was Mary, and given that she was the librarian at said Library, the chances of her _not_ being there were incredibly slim.

Instead, he ended up sat in the Inn , which was a) hardly surprising given that he lived there and b) he had to admit, a little sad. He would usually take a table in the corner, away from the crowds, and hope that today would be the day he could finally let go of his feelings for Mary and move on.

But so far he'd been totally unsuccessful. It was as though every time he tried to concentrate on something else - his friend Cliff's fledgling relationship with Ann, work at the Blacksmiths or whatever - she'd always end up creeping back into his thoughts. Her quiet little laugh, her shy smile, her hair, her eyes - everything about her, really. There wasn't really a part of her he didn't like; he loved every little thing about her. In fact, scratch that, he was _in love_ with her. Simple as that.

Only it wasn't, was it? How could it be, when the only woman he'd ever felt so strongly about, had been married to another man for at least a year now? And Gray just didn't know what had gone wrong. He thought he'd been making progress with Mary, what with his daily trips to the Library, all the talking they did and that picnic they went on in the Summer...he was so _sure_ it was going well. But then along came Jack, with his classic good looks and winning smile and BAM! - they were engaged before Gray had time to look around. It was so sudden and yet even now, entire seasons later, he could barely take it all in. She was gone, Mary - _his_ Mary - was gone.


	2. Chapter 1: Her

**Disclaimer -** I don't own Harvest Moon.

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Her

Once again, his grandfather was shouting at him.

However, this time even Gray could admit that he had a pretty genuine reason. He'd been bringing the hammer down over and over again onto a sickle that belonged to - who else? - but Jack. And of course he couldn't concentrate at all. Soon enough, his attention had wandered just far enough to turn the metal into a burnt, twisted mess that would be no use to anyone, and that was when Saibara started yelling.

Normally, Gray would have just muttered something scathing under his breath, then repaired the damage.

But not today, today was different. Today he shouted back. It was mostly incoherent rambling, but it felt good to just let his emotions out.

Unfortunately, things went wrong when it came to the dramatic finale of throwing down his hammer and storming out. The hammer caught his thumb, for one thing, causing pain to shoot all the way up his arm and a variation of curses to come frothing from his mouth. Then, to top things off he pushed the hammer aside (still swearing) and felt a horrible stinging sensation as the sickle sliced into his hand.

Apparently it wasn't completely useless.

As Gray just stood, watching warm, dark blood trickle down his arm, Saibara stormed across the floor and into his tiny bedroom. He emerged a second later carrying a grubby, grey cloth.

"Put this over it," he instructed his grandson gruffly. "And get yourself to the Clinic. It's not like you're getting any work done here..." As his words died away, the old man wandered back to the anvil, sighing, as Gray made a hasty exit.

The street outside was refreshingly cool in comparison with the shop, which was always sweltering. Gray was almost grateful to get away from it. It was a bright, but frosty early Fall morning and Gray was almost tempted to avoid the Clinic all together and just wander off somewhere. He almost did, too, but his injured hand was now throbbing painfully and he decided he'd better go just in case. Knowing his luck it was probably getting infected...

He turned the corner that led onto the path heading North, throwing his grandfather's rag into the bushes as he did so. Putting that onto the wound was just asking for trouble really; he'd simply say he lost it.

The town was unusually quiet as Gray walked along. Sure, it was early, but there was normally _someone_ about. All he could hear today, though, were the faint chirping of the few birds that ventured away from Mother's Hill. In fact, when he turned onto the road that ran along North Mineral Town, he noticed that even Rick and Karen were absent from their usual bench.

It was odd, but then, he thought, if there were less people around at least he would be spared the embarrassment of having to explain what had happened.

"Gray? Hey, wait a second!"

It was her - Mary. He knew her voice instantly and it sent a strange shiver running through him. A shiver that was now just a pointless, painful motion, as far as he was concerned. After all, she was a married woman, so how could he act on feelings like that?

Gray turned to see Mary stood by the open door of the Library. As usual her long, dark hair was pulled back into a braid and her thick glasses seemed to highlight her soft grey eyes all the more. And, of course, she was smiling. Just as she always did.

"Oh - hello," he mananged stammer, once he'd found his voice. "Er...nice day, isn't it?" Suddenly, he wished his voice had stayed hidden.

But Mary was perfectly kind about his nervousness. "Oh, it's lovely," she agreed. "I thought I might go and do some writing outside this afternoon, actually - "

"What about the Library?" Gray blurted out without thinking. His cheeks burned as he wished someone had gagged him for real. _Why_ did he have to say anything? It was not like he even went there anymore.

Yet again Mary managed to be unbelievably tactful. "Well, Jack's always saying I should be taking more time off," she mused aloud. "And I've got say I quite - quite - " She broke off, starting to frown.

"What?"

"Gray, your _hand_!" she cried. "What on earth happened to it?"

He tried to explain, pointing out that he was fine, but soon Mary was bustling about trying to help and insisting she'd take him to the Clinic. Gray tried to protest to this, but his weak argument was lost completely when she grabbed his good arm (he wasn't about to complain about _that_) and yanked him along (well...she was scarily strong for such a small woman).

"I was going anyway," Gray explained feebly, as he was dragged through the Clinic door.

Soon, he was explaining the story over again to Elli and Doctor Tim, and creating wildly imaginative excuses for why he didn't come in straight away. The fact that he'd bumped into the now off-limits love of his life may have been true, but he certainly wasn't confessing that to all present. Or anyone _ever_, for that matter.

It quickly transpired that he would need stitches for the wound, so while he had them put in, Mary stayed in the waiting room with Elli. Gray had told her not to bother from the start, but she wouldn't listen and was actually insisting on accompanying him home later. He'd wanted to die with embarrassment when she'd suggested that.

But it soon became apparent that Mary staying behind to wait was actually a very lucky thing. Just as the Doctor finished the stitches there was cry from the waiting room and Elli came rushing in. "Doctor, come quick!" she uttered breathlessly. "Mary's collapsed, it was completely out of the blue."

Before he knew it, Gray was being ushered out and Mary ushered in. There were suggestions of him going to fetch Jack, but he was too sick with fear to move. Instead, he stayed alone in the waiting room, pacing back and forth, desperate for knowledge. He just couldn't understand what had happened, as she'd been fine earlier. Hadn't she? Or had he just not been paying enough attention? Most of all he prayed to the Goddess that she'd be fine...she _had_ to be...please...

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A few hours later, Gray left the Clinic. And he wasn't alone.

He'd been asked to accompany Mary back to the farm to deliver the 'good' news to Jack.

She was pregnant.


	3. Chapter 2: Telling Jack

**Disclaimer** - Harvest Moon does not belong to me. 

**Author's note** - Hey everyone! I have at last updated and sorry it's not long, but as I said before this is going to a relatively short fic. Oh, and a big thanks to everyone who reviewed: **1angelette**, **Jean Cooper**, **The Scarlet Sky**, **Flaming Black Skull** and **Awesome Rapidash**. You guys are amazing!

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Telling Jack

Mary was quietly thoughtful as they made their way to the farm and as he observed it, Gray realised how he'd always admired that quality in her. Why now, he thought, why only now when he'd couldn't act upon them should his feelings rise to the surface, with the only purpose of prolonging his pain?

It didn't seem fair. Not at all. But then nothing did since Mary had married Jack.

As they walked along, the Fall sunshine getting seemingly brighter with each step, Gray felt himself falling into a wonderful fantasy. He found that if he concentrated hard enough, he could push all the negative feelings about the Mary and Jack situation to the back of his mind until they paled into complete insignificance. Jack was out of the picture entirely, non-existent in fact. Mary was _his_ wife, carrying _his_ child and _they_ were on the way to tell a loved one the good news. Just as they passed by the Blacksmiths Gray imagined his grandfather's reaction to his current ridiculous train of thought and very nearly laughed; love was obviously causing him insanity.

The longer the silence wore on, the deeper Gray fell into his fantasy. He knew that if it wasn't broken he could carry on pretending...

"I'm sorry for giving you such a scare earlier," Mary said slowly, just then.

Gray felt himself crashing back to earth and the reality it brought with it. "Nah, you didn't, it's okay," he lied hurriedly. Then, only seconds later, his casual words replayed in his head and he realised how they must have sounded. "I mean...not that I didn't _care_ that you were ill. I did. Of course, I did. But - but only as a friend - "

Thankfully Mary had the sense to interrupt. "It's okay," she smiled understandingly and suddenly Gray wasn't so nervous anymore. It was strange to realise, but even though he knew she couldn't possibly understand the full extent of his problem, her calm tone went some way to comforting him.

In Gray's opinion, Mary's new home of Mineral Farm loomed before them far too soon. The prospect of seeing Jack made his heart sink to the floor, but somehow his feet were carrying him along the narrow dirt track, seemingly without his consent.

And then she grabbed his hand. Mary, that is. His hand. _Mary_. _His_ hand. Oh...Goddess.

Gray froze where he stood. He blinked down at her hand clasped there and as Mary's own eyes followed, she wrenched her hand away. After mumbling a barely coherent, 'Sorry', she continued down path.

"What d'you do that for?" Gray snapped, in utter frustration, after a moment's shocked silence.

He wasn't fully expecting an answer, yet Mary still turned. "I'm sorry," she repeated in a quiet, mousy tone. "I - was nervous, that's all. S - sorry."

It was one of those moments where you know you should probably just leave it go and keep silent. But Gray couldn't - not even when Mary's grey eyes were on the verge of tears and she looked genuinely confused. He found he didn't much care anymore.

"Well - just don't, okay?" he answered shortly, walking on. It was such a sunny day, he noted dully as Mary scurried behind, though it felt more like it should be raining. Completely tipping down, in fact.

By the time they'd reached the farmhouse, Gray's anger had abated - slightly - though Mary was still silent. "Thank you," she said hurriedly, barely even looking at him. She was obviously embarrassed about earlier and..._nervous?_ Wasn't that what she'd said? He hadn't been paying too much attention really. Guilt welled up inside Gray as he watched Mary and he bit down on his bottom lip. After the way he'd snapped, he wasn't really sure if it was his place to ask why...

"You can go now if you want," she told him suddenly, cutting through his thoughts. "I'll be fine now. And thank you, of course, for everything." She paused for a second, her eyes lingering on Gray's hand. "I hope your hand's okay, by the way."

It took Gray a little while to understand what she meant, as his injured hand had completely slipped his mind. In fact, it was odd to think that one simple mistake in the Blacksmiths had led to all this. He gave her a small smile, that was hopefully as apologetic as it was reassuring. "I'm sure I'll be fine," he replied.

And to his delight, Mary smiled back, wider and brighter than he could ever have dreamed for. It seemed the damage had been repaired.

But then she opened her mouth...and he realised. It was Jack she was smiling at, Jack whose name she called out, Jack who clapped him on the back before moving on to his waiting wife...

_Jack._

Damn.

Gray couldn't exactly say it felt as though his heart had sunk this time; it felt more like there was nothing to sink. He was just empty. A shell.

As if watching Jack wander over to Mary and envelope her in hug, looking concerned at her sudden arrival wasn't bad enough, Gray found himself being invited in to share the good news. What's more, he actually heard himself agreeing to the ludicrous proposal and was trudging across the damp, sun drenched lawn before he could stop himself.

However, despite his anxiety and fear, Gray could barely stifle a gasp as he entered the farmhouse. He'd never seen the inside of it before, despite the odd offer from Mary, but now he could understand more clearly than ever why she was so proud of her new home. It was just so, so her - there was no other word for it, really.

A large, rough-wood dining table sat almost central in the room, surrounded my many chairs, most of them rarely used, by the seems of it. There were old, but cosy looking armchairs set over by a huge fireplace in the corner and the kitchen was flooded with light from a small, circular window placed at the end of it. Most noticeable to Gray, though, were all the books. They were everywhere; stacked on coffee tables, the arms of chairs, some even piled up in corners of the floor...No wonder Mary felt so at home.

"It's wonderful, isn't?" she sighed, presently, watching Gray's expression with care. "Old-fashioned and homey; just perfect."

That was exactly what he was afraid of: her being completely content here. It wasn't a pleasant thought, and not one Gray was particularly proud of, but he just couldn't see himself ever being happy for Mary and Jack. There would only be bitterness and that, he thought, was very sad.

His mind still racing with thoughts, Gray hardly noticed Mary offering him a seat at the table.

"Gray?" she repeated, concerned, and he almost leapt into the chair opposite her to compensate. Jack had gone off into the kitchen to fetch snacks, leaving the two alone, and Gray surprised himself by finding he had very little to say.

"You've...er...told him, then?" he asked, for want of anything better. After all, she _must_ have done during that hug or at some point when he was stood feeling so lost. And Jack was just taking the news very well, that was all.

His pathetic attempts to convince himself that he wouldn't have to bear this ordeal, soon crumbled when Mary shook her head. "Not quite yet," she answered slowly focusing more on the table before her, rather than Gray.

He shifted uncomfortably at the revelation. "Oh...am I really required for this, then?" he blurted out. By now, Gray didn't really care how rude he sounded, he simply wanted to leave. In fact, he would have made a dash for the door right now, if that had not involved pushing the boundries of acceptable social conduct a little too far.

"Well, I was hoping you'd stay, Gray," Mary mumbled, still not looking at him. She shrugged. "Of course, if you don't want to..."

"It's not like that - "

"Good then!" she smiled as though that settled it. "I'm sure Jack will love to have you here to share the news. You two would be such good friends if you just got to know each other a little better."

Somehow Gray doubted it. After all, the desire to rip someone apart and kick them into the next decade was hardly a virtue of friendship.

Nevertheless, he smiled and nodded.

Just then, Jack came out of the kitchen struggling to balance three glasses of apple juice, and only just managing. He was followed by a large, pale brown dog, whose name Gray was unsure of. Something with 'D' was about as much as he knew. Danny, perhaps? Or Digger?

"Oh, hello Dexter," Mary cooed, ruffling the mutt's long, droopy ears so that it barked loudly. Oh, he thought, well...close enough.

Soon, all three were seated, each with their juice, and Gray was beginning think that if Mary didn't get on with it and tell him now, she never would. As she started going on about the weather instead, Gray earned a confused look from Jack and decided that enough was enough.

"Mary?" he coughed awkwardly, givivng her a significant look. Just why, after being ecsatic in the Clinic, she'd become so wary over being a parent, Gray couldn't say. But he did know that this situation was getting desperately uncomfortable and he wanted it over - soon.

The librarian gave a tiny nod of recognition and as her husband's eyes travelled back to her, she took a deep breath. It all came out in a rush - a strangely coherent one: "I'm pregnant, Jack."

There would have been perfect, unbroken silence in the room then, if it weren't for Dexter's scratching. The farmer and his wife continued to stare at each other, while Gray steadily watched the swirling, amber liquid in his glass as though fascinated by it. Several times he felt he should just get up and leave, but somehow he couldn't.

When Gray did at last glance upwards, he felt a shock go through him as Jack's brown eyes flew to meet his. Clearly the farmer couldn't quite figure out the blacksmith's part in the story and it was honestly quite understandable. Thankfully, Mary explained.

She told of Gray's injured hand, how she'd helped him to the Clinic, her unexpected collapse and Gray accompanying her back after the diagnosis. Finally, it all seemed to click with Jack.

There was another moment of silence, but this time it lasted only a second. Jack leapt to his feet suddenly, laughing. Laughing happily, thank Goddess. He swept his now beaming wife into his arms and hugged her as though he never wanted to let go again. "I'm gonna be a Dad!" Gray heard him mumble into her shoulder.

Their happiness seemed radiate throughout the entire room, invading every space and reverberating off the oak walls. Gray could _almost_ feel happy for them - but then he heard her laugh.

It was the sort of cherished sound he could only dream of drawing out of her and just hearing it was the final straw. Seeing that his presence was no longer needed, Gray stumbled to his feet and after a brief 'Congratulations' he was outside.

The cold air was actually a relief as it hit him. He began walking away quickly, but stopped as the weather's dramatic change from how it had been earlier dawned. As he observed the ominous dark clouds hanging above, he smirked in grim satisfaction.

Now it really was raining.

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**A/N** - Sorry, sorry, **sorry** for how long it took me to update this! I had the chapter planned for ages, just couldn't find time to write it. As always, reviews are greatly valued and appreciated, so if you have time I'd love to know your thoughts on this latest installment.

Bye for now!


	4. Chapter 3: So Called Friends

**Disclaimer** - Harvest Moon does not belong to me. 

**Author's note** - Hey everyone, I'm back with another chapter at last! Sorry it's a little later than expected - not that that's anything new - and also not exactly packed with plot development. It's all relevant though. There's some Cliff x Ann fluff and background to Gray's feelings about Mary. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: **The Scarlet Sky**, **Flaming Black Skull**, **Awesome** **Rapidash** and **kelley28**.

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So Called Friends

By the time he reached the Inn, Gray was soaked through.

As he pushed the door open, Ann looked up from the table she was busily wiping. Her bright blue eyes swept over him searchingly. "Raining, is it?" she asked. There was brief pause before her mouth twitched into smile and she burst out laughing at her own joke.

She wasn't the only one either, although Cliff's nervous chuckle didn't bother Gray all that much. By the seems of it he was trying his best to ask his girlfriend something and laughing along was simply a way of keeping her on side. And as Gray watched his friend lingering warily by Ann's table, he noticed he'd even dragged a comb through his wild hair.

"So I was, er, thinking," Cliff stuttered. "That if you can get off work later - "

Ann whirled around at his words, almost whipping her boyfriend in the face with her braid. "But I_ can't_," she stressed, wringing the cloth with some agitation. "I've got to work. I keep _telling_ you, don't I?"

"Reality check, Ann: the place is empty!" His voice even echoed around the deserted room as if to perfectly illustrate this point.

Ann's reply, however, was yet another hysterical outburst. "Well it won't be later, will it? We'll have all our regulars in then. Karen, Rick, Duke - " Her eyes flew back to Gray for around the fifth time. "Probably your Grandfather, too."

He only grunted, hoping that the bickering would resume and Ann would be distracted. He could just tell she was dying to interrogate him about where he'd been. But unfortunately for Gray, even his so-called friend was staring now, so he didn't get his reprieve.

He went to slip around them and up the stairs, when Ann decided she could hold her curiosity in no longer. "Look, I know it's none of my business - "

"Then why ask," Gray muttered, but only very quietly.

" - It's just that I know you're hardly a bundle of laughs at the best of times, but I've seen more cheer in a cemetery than what's on your face right now!"

Gray said nothing, as he supposed this was partly true, but Cliff went beetroot with embarrassment on his girlfriend's behalf. "Ann," he mumbled, mortified, shooting Gray a quick apologetic look. "That's not very...uh...nice," he finished lamely, while Ann frowned.

"Well I thought I'd better at least ask," she retorted fiercely, now wringing the cloth as though she wished it were Cliff's neck.

He opened his mouth to answer back, but Gray, struck by sudden inspiration, got there first. "It's my hand," he explained, wafting it around while they both blinked at the bandages. "Cut it at work, didn't I? Had to have stitches as well."

As far as Gray was concerned, that would be the end of the matter and he could _finally_ slink off to his room undeterred.

He was wrong. Of course he was. What had he been expecting: good luck for a change?

Instead, he was forced to endure Ann's endless apologies and fussing and questions until at long, _long_ last the first customer of the evening arrived and she bustled off. Thank Goddess for that, Gray thought dashing for the sanctuary of his room.

Cliff was already there, sat at the end of his bed, twirling a strand of dark hair distractedly. Just like Gray, he wasn't a big fan of the busy evenings in the bar, so often hid away instead.

There was silence in the room, while Gray went about fiddling with his bandages. He tried not to mind the slightly uneasy atmosphere.

"Sorry about Ann," Cliff sighed, after a moment. He shook his head a little in exasperation. "You know how she can be a little, well..._tactless_ at times."

Gray attempted a grin, but it came out as more of a grimace despite his best efforts. "A little?" he said, laughing humourlessly.

There was another pause, before Cliff spoke up tentatively. "I - I really like her, y'know."

"Oh! I wasn't trying to be insulting - " Gray explained hurriedly. He flopped down on his own bed and turned to face Cliff, feeling, with some annoyance, his face burning deep scarlet.

But his friend just smiled. "I know," he sighed once again, still with an odd grin fixed on his face. "I was just saying really..." He soon trailed off, sounding dreamy and caught up in his own little 'Ann and Cliff' world.

Gray mimed vomiting in protest of the unbelievably girly attitude Cliff was displaying, but he did it silently and while his friend's back was turned. To be honest, the main source of his irritation was simply the fact that Cliff had wooed his girl successfully, while he hadn't. Even more irritating though, was how Cliff had had stumbled and stuttered his way into his relationship with Ann and somehow - for want of a better phrase - had come up smelling of roses.

Gray, on the other hand, had tried to play it cool with Mary. With hindsight, too cool obviously.

He'd sit in the Library being as quiet and mysterious as possible thinking that she wouldn't be interested in someone who was too forward. Though actually, when he first came to Mineral Town he genuinely wasn't interested in her at all. The Library was his quiet, little bolthole in a an otherwise unfamiliar town; he felt like he belonged there for some reason. The infatuation with Mary had come along much later.

She was so intelligent and composed and beautiful and, honestly, he was just completely in awe of her. Yet despite all that - no matter how much he felt it - not once did she make him feel as though they were on different levels. In fact, deep down, he always felt he had a chance with Mary.

And actually, speaking of roses, he'd given her one once. Just the one (as that was costly enough) with striking blood red petals all in perfect velvety formation around a thorn studded stem. He _thought_ he was being so romantic when he left it on Mary's desk one afternoon in the Library when her back was turned, but those were the pre-Jack days. Only a few weeks after his gift, Jack's interest in the Librarian started to climb and his paltry single rose was soon ousted by a first edition copy of her favourite childhood book shipped specially from the city.

Being the height of politeness and sensitivity, Mary didn't exactly toss Gray's present into the street with the rubbish, but the strange, rosy glow that hung about her after recieving Jack's gift was crushing enough. Suddenly, the Library just wasn't his cosy little hideaway anymore.

Cliff had long since drifted downstairs to keep Ann company, so Gray allowed himself to let out a long sigh. He flopped down onto his bed and, in the dim fading light of the room, had nearly sucumbed to a restless sleep when there was a resounding knock at the door.

"Gray?" Ann's voice ventured from the corridor. "You in there?"

With a faint trace of a sigh, he leapt from the bed and scrambled to the door. "Of course I am," he mumbled as her anxious face came into view. Her eyes were wider than usual as she observed him critically like a concerned parent. Gray just rolled his own eyes. "What is it Ann?"

"I'm sorry about earlier," she answered, avoiding his rather rude question carefully. Stepping past him, Ann entered the room and stared around. It did annoy Gray slightly, but she lived here, her father even owned the place, so he could hardly ask her to leave.

"What?" he repeated gruffly.

"_Nothing,"_ Ann insisted, though Gray knew that was a lie. She was now glancing from the ceiling to the walls as if they fascinated her. Meanwhile, Gray was fast growing impatient.

"Look, if there's something you want - "

In a way that was highly unlike her, Ann hesitated. "I, well, um..." Her eyes darted back and forth, as though she was desperately trying to avoid something. All of a sudden though, a relieved smile appeared on her face and she laughed, "Oh, Cliff! Good timing!"

And there, stood in the doorway, was the young traveller. He gave Gray a nervous little grin, smiled shyly at Ann and then, looking even more worried, turned back to the blacksmith who was beginning to look very suspicious indeed.

"_What?"_ he asked yet again, this time hissing in his most menacing tone. All he wanted was some peace and quiet, and maybe to sleep. He doubted it would be much of a deep sleep, granted, but if the only time he'd be plagued by Mary was through his dreams, then he wanted to make the most of them.

"Saibara's in the bar," Cliff explained. "He said something about your hand and why didn't you come back after going to the Clinic...?" He shrugged. "Anyway, I take it from your expression that Ann's informed you of our little plan."

The ground below Gray seemed to have fallen away sharply. A...plan!? Good Goddess, what _now_?

Cliff's dark eyes suddenly seemed lit with worry. He was watching Gray's expression carefully as he muttered, "Oh. So she hasn't told you then?"

Gray simply shook his head, too numb to speak, but Ann exploded, "No! Of course I haven't, idiot!"

Cliff could only wince at his girlfriend's high-pitched, high-decibel interruption. "Sorry," he muttered. "But maybe - maybe it was a stupid idea anyway..."

For one blissful moment, Gray thought he would be spared whatever horrors they'd dreamed up, but Ann wasn't having any of it. Shaking her head so her fiery braid wiggled, she clasped his wrist and dragged him into a sitting position on the edge of Cliff's bed. "Nonsense! It's _my_ plan, therefore the _perfect_ plan and, well, not really so much of a plan as some - er - advice."

"No offense, but I don't take to advice that well," Gray interjected quickly. He tried to stand up, but Ann clung to him, her thin, pale fingers surprisingly strong.

_"Sit."_

So Gray sat, glancing as he did so at his so-called friend, who was still leaning against the door frame. Cliff stayed silent, but he did seem to be trying to signal something through his facial expressions. Regret, no doubt, though Gray purposely chose to ignore it. He turned back to Ann.

"So? What is you want to tell me, then?" He stopped to snort with laughter. "Or indeed..._suggest_?"

Ann couldn't manage to completely hide her embarrassment. Yet despite her flushed skin, her demeanour was as determined as ever. "It's not like that, Gray," she told him quietly and slowly, as though dealing with a young child. "It's just we - that is, Cliff and I - think you've become a bit unhappy since...since, well...you know."

"No I don't know," Gray retorted hurriedly, folding his arms and frowning at the pair. He didn't like where this was going at all.

"Since Mary's wedding, of course," Cliff replied instantly.

And with that, the blacksmith forgot to act as though he was oblivous and exclaimed, "Huh? How d'you know that?"

Ann and Cliff exchanged a very knowing, smug look. "It's obvious," Ann laughed.

"Completely," her boyfriend chipped in, almost straight after. They shared yet another gooey grin and it seemed for a second as though they'd be drawn into happy, dreamy Couple Land, so that Gray would be left alone. No such luck though.

The young waitress patted his arm sympathetically instead. "It's like you're permeanently tuned into all things Mary," she explained. "And naturally, as your friends, we've found it very difficult to ignore."

Cliff nodded in a agreement, while Gray was left speechless. Glancing between the two, he didn't really know what to think. On one hand, he hated the idea of them knowing this much. And yet...? In a kind of grudging way, he liked it. They were his friends after all and they did care. Even if their approach did slightly worry him.

And somewhere along the line, that same thought prompted him to agree to their plan when he heard it.

No matter how much he was likely to regret it in the end.

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**A/N** - So, just what are Ann and Cliff plotting, eh? All will be revealed next chapter, which I'm greatly looking forward to writing. Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!


	5. Chapter 4: Death By Humiliation

**Disclaimer** - I don't own Harvest Moon. 

**Author's note** - Gah! I'm **so** sorry it took me so long to get this next chapter posted. I've been really busy lately and had total writer's block on it for ages. But it's now complete and I hope everyone enjoys it. Oh, and a big thank you to those who reviewed: **Awesome Rapidash** and **Midnight Philosophy**. Thanks so much!

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Death By Humiliation

Gray staggered out of the Clinic with as much speed as he could muster, vowing as he did so never, _ever_ to agree to one of Ann and Cliff's plans again. It simply wasn't worth the pain.

A brisk Fall breeze battered him as he made his way down the street, past the supermarket, and quickly around the corner. All the while he cradled his still throbbing hand pitifully, like a small child who'd scraped their knee.

Normally, Gray would be less than pleased at his own pathetic attitude, but just now he was too annoyed to care. What on earth, he wondered, had Cliff and Ann been thinking when they suggested something so ludicrous? And, more to the point, why had he even _considered_ going along with it?

"Gray!"

The young blacksmith's head jerked upwards and he caught sight of Cliff lugging barrels across the Vineyard. He stopped sharply at the thunderous look on Gray's face. "You okay?" he asked somewhat nervously, as his friend's blue eyes narrowed. "Didn't it go so well?"

Gray looked down at his unfortunate hand and winced. "You could say that."

There was a sudden silence as Cliff shuffled across the yard and came to stand at the gate with Gray. "I don't understand," he said, perplexed. "I thought you were just having the stitches removed." Then, looking horrified, the scruffy brunette gasped. "Hey... she didn't, like, um, try and_ break_ your hand, did she?"

It was such a ridiculous idea that anyone who heard it would struggle not to laugh. Except for Gray, that is - who knew that the truth was even more unbelievable. "No," he muttered, his voice becoming strangely croaky. "_She_ didn't, at least..."

Though as he recalled his horrific morning, Gray felt that Elli had every right to be annoyed with him. Hell, even he was! Annoyed with himself for doing something so stupid and annoyed with his friends for allowing - no, _encouraging_ - him to. He didn't really want to talk about it, but Cliff had hitched himself up onto the fence and was looking expectant. "Well? What happened?"

Sighing, Gray jumped up too.

He didn't go into how the whole thing started, as Cliff knew that already. He was actually there for one thing and, if Gray remembered rightly, it was him who'd suggested Elli. They (Cliff, Ann and Gray, that is) had made a list of any possible dating prospects in an attempt to help Gray forget Mary. Not likely, he'd thought at the time, as Ann made a shortlist. She was out, of course, because of Cliff and so was Karen due to her long-term relationship with Rick. "Plus she'd eat you alive!" Ann had chipped in less than helpfully. So with the two of them out of the question, only Popuri and Elli were left. "Unless you'd like to go for an older woman?" the red-head continued jokingly. "Anna? Sasha? _Manna _even?" Gray could do nothing but laugh - it was either that or cry, anyway.

Ann herself felt that Popuri would be the best choice, given that she and Mary were almost complete opposites. It would help him get right away from all thoughts of the quiet librarian, was her thinking. It wasn't so much Gray's though. While he could see that she was right about Mary and Popuri having very different personalities, the idea still didn't appeal to him.

Popuri was a lively girl, very bubbly and just as pretty as she was high-spirited. Her candy-floss hair and ruby red eyes, though, were miles away from Mary's understated beauty and shy demeanor. Now Gray was reasonable enough to see the benefits of Ann's plan, but he simply wasn't ready for such a stark change. "Besides," he agrued at the time. "Doesn't she have a thing for Kai? You know - a crush on him?" After much bickering over Popuri's relationship status, Cliff finally had the sense to remind the two of them that there was still Elli.

Yes, the kind, sweet nurse, who wasn't a million miles away from Mary personality wise. Sure, Elli tended to worry and fuss over people more, and she certainly wasn't as shy as Mary, but they were both quieter and gentler than any of the other girls in Mineral Town. In fact, at the time Gray was pretty sure it was a good idea to try and 'woo' Elli as it were.

Or perhaps he didn't truly believe that his friends were going to make him go through with his. Perhaps, deep down, he believed that this was all just a game or a joke. Nothing concrete at least.

So it was shock for him, then, to find Ann pressing a bunch of flowers into his hands this morning, just before going to have his stitches removed.

"Um... thank you?"

"They're for _Elli!"_ Ann laughed, shaking her head out of exasperation. "Remember the plan? You're going to be all sweet and give them to her and hopefully, maybe ask her out on a little date. Right, Gray?"

The strangled noise Gray came out with at that news was far from confirmation. But Ann, convinced her idea was utterly perfect, heard it to be. "Good boy," she told him, brushing down his clothes like a fussing mother. "You'll do fine, I'm sure."

"You know now I think of it, Elli and I aren't really compatible," Gray babbled, once he'd found his voice. He was starting to wonder exactly what he'd been thinking when agreeing to this.

Ann just chuckled, casting aside his worry with a wave of her hand. "Nonsense!" she said cheerily. "You're only saying that because you're still pining after Mary. It's no use," she added, sounding far more solemn. "She's married now and pregnant, don't forget. You're doing yourself no favours, Gray."

Huh, he thought, how _could _he forget with people like her drumming such things depressing facts into him? It was true though, Gray realised in defeat, as he trailed up the road towards the Clinic, dragging his feet as though walking to his doom. The deep grey clouds above echoed his gloomy mood and even the bunch of Trick Blues clasped in his good hand seemed to be wilting there and then.

"So what happened when you got there?" Cliff asked presently. He looked highly curious, but his tone was hushed as he sat waiting. The only reply Gray felt like giving though was a self-pitying groan.

"I don't want to go into it anymore," he muttered quietly.

Unsurprisingly, this didn't satisfy Cliff. "Oh, come on!" he insisted. "You haven't told me anything I didn't already know. What happened _after_ that?"

"Oh...well..." Gray sighed heavily, rolling his eyes skyward. He would much rather never even think of this morning again, so intense was his embarrassment. Cliff, however, was like a persistent puppy...

"Fine, fine!" he snapped, as his friend grinned victoriously. "Well, nothing really happened at first..."

That was certainly true enough. On his arrival, the reception was Elli-free though he could hear her slightly muffled voice as she spoke just beyond the blue curtain. Mingling with her softer, sweeter, more feminine tones was another voice. It was deeper and definitely male. Doctor Tim, Gray concluded; they were clearly talking about a patient.

He wasn't sure exactly who until he turned and jumped about a foot in the air at the realisation that he wasn't alone. A frail looking Lillia was sat on one of the squashy, bright yellow sofas. As their eyes met, Lillia gave him a friendly smile that was bordering on mischievous. It took Gray a little while to understand what she was getting at - until he remembered the bunch of flowers he was holding.

Completely unable to stop himself, Gray felt his cheeks burning scarlet. "It's - uh - " he stuttered, pulling his cap down further over his face. "Erm - " He would have liked to say 'not what it looks like'. But that would have been a lie, wouldn't it? In actual fact, it was _exactly_ what it looked like. Lillia, who was starting to appear more and more like her daughter as her expression grew ever so teasing, only raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Gray?" The blacksmith turned around hurriedly at the sound of Elli's voice. She had just emerged from behind the curtain and greeted him with a welcoming smile. "So are you ready to - " A feeling of dread rushing through him, Gray watched as her big, brown eyes locked onto the flowers and widened even further still. "Oh my!" she uttered breathlessly.

The events following that were mostly a blur. Elli looked faintly embarrassed, while Gray, for some unknown and highly irritating reason, could not stop babbling on as he tried to talk his way out of the situation. Naturally, with the result that he made things a hell of a lot worse in the process. He did eventually get his tongue into order and asked her to dinner - but soon wished to the Goddess he hadn't.

She refused. Not in a nasty, vindictive way, but in a polite 'I think I'm busy, perhaps another time, I'm so _so_ sorry' kind of way. Which in Gray's opinion, made the whole horrible situation seem a thousand times worse. He wasn't sure who he hated most at that moment: her, Cliff, Ann or even poor stricken Lillia whose sympathetic look burned into the back of his skull.

The absolute icing on the cake though, was having his stitches literally _wrenched_ out by the Doctor. It was only then, after all that humiliation, that Gray realised the clearly obvious. Elli and Tim were a couple. Yep - all that for _nothing_. He could have cried.

"Ouch," Cliff winced, as Gray came to his very grim conclusion. "So, er, no date tonight then?"

For a moment, Gray considered shooting back a sarcastic reply, though he quickly decided against it. After all, he wanted to be in the best possible mood for his arrival at the Inn. Ann would be there, of course, and he had a few choice words to say to her.

He leapt clumsily from the fence, joking, "She said she'd call me."

* * *

**A/N** - Well there you have it, readers, another chapter complete. I hope it was enjoyable, despite not being full of exciting plot development. Look out for the next chapter though, where I can promise a much more interesting twist that'll really move the plot along. Well... hopefully, anyway! Thanks for reading and don't forget to leave a review.


	6. Chapter 5: Nothing And Everything

**Disclaimer -** I don't own Harvest Moon.

**Author's note - **If I do have any readers left for this story (and I don't deserve them for taking so stupidly long with this chapter), then I can only apologise for the huge delay. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: **The Scarlet Sky **and **Awesome Rapidash**. _Hopefully,_ updates will be more frequent from now on...

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Nothing And Everything

In the weeks following his disastrous 'wooing' of Elli, Gray could at least admit that some good had come of his actions. Only a few days into Winter, Elli and her employer, Doctor Tim, made the shock announcement of their engagement. It was a shock because no one, except for Gray who found himself in the briefest love-triangle imaginable, seemed to know that they were a couple. And, to ease his pain over the situation, he liked to think that his attempted dating of the nurse had pushed Tim into asserting his position with a wedding. Something like that, anyway.

"Y'know, I always had an inkling about those two," Ann said musingly, as she wiped down tables. It was a gloomy Thursday morning, and Gray was sat in the restaurant trying in vain to make the most of his day off.

He gave Ann a slightly idignant look over his bowl of porridge. "If you knew they were together," he grumbled, "why did you send me off to the Clinic with a bunch of bloody Trick Blues?"

"I said, an _inkling," _Ann tutted, absent-mindedly. She didn't even look up from her cleaning, a few tables away.

Gray merely sighed and decided not to press the matter. Well... he and Elli had been doomed from the start, then. In all honesty, the blacksmith didn't really care. He thought Elli was sweet girl, but even if she hadn't been involved, he didn't evision any sort of future for them.

"I heard they're having the ceremony in a few weeks," Ann continued obliviously. "Do you think you'll go?"

Gray shrugged non-commitally. To be totally honest, weddings weren't really his scene at all. Slushy speeches and lovey-dovey vows just made him cringe. And considering that this was Elli's wedding, there was bound to be an abundance of pink confetti.

On the plus side, though, it couldn't possibly be any worse than Jack and Mary's wedding. Their's had been a quiet, understated affair; not too overdone or lavish. Gray supposed he would have enjoyed it, if it hadn't been Mary's.

"Well... I may as well go," he conceded eventually. "It's not like I'll have anything better to do."

At that point, Ann launched into one of her famed rants about how he should focus on the positives and refuse to be dragged down the slippery slope of self-pity. Gray knew she was probably right, but it still didn't stop him looking favourably on returning to work tomorrow.

Thursdays used to be his haven in amongst a busy, thankless week of non-stop work. On a Thursday he didn't have to keep darting glances at the old clock in the workshop, counting down the seconds until freedom. He didn't have to apologise to Mary when a tough job delayed him, or worry about trailing dirt and oil across her spotless hardwood flooring. His only concern on a Thursday was giving away his true feelings for her. With hindsight, though, he'd obviously been a little _too_ efficient on that front.

These days, the days of Mary-and-Jack, the married couple, Thursdays were rather different. He didn't trust himself to go anywhere near the Library, day off or not, so that was out of the question. Neither a calming walk at the beach, or even a moody trek across Mother's Hill could tempt him, either. _So,_ he generally let his days off drift by; not working nor relaxing. Most importantly, not caring. Naturally, with a workaholic like Ann prowling around, this attitude was greatly frowned upon.

"Come _on,_ Gray," she kept yelling, " that porridge _must _be cold by now."

Gray was very tempted to irritate her further by requesting more - but he didn't quite dare. The woman was armed with a broom, after all.

Thankfully, he was finally granted a stroke of good luck when the front door burst open and Cliff wandered in, shaking snowflakes from his mane of dark hair. "What on earth are you doing back?" Ann barked, turning her attentions to the Vineyard worker and leaving a very relieved Gray in relative peace.

Cliff looked taken aback, but braved the questioning. "I've not been fired," he told her, knowing it was usually best not to come between Ann and her cleaning. "Manna and Duke said I could the day off, that's all. It's really _really_ cold over there and they thought the heating might be bust, so... they let me go."

"Cool," Gray mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of his long forgotten porridge. It was indeed cold and he ended up throwing his spoon down in defeat. He couldn't help thinking that not even a typhoon or sub-arctic conditions would cause his grandfather to send him home from the forge. The reason for the old man's superior strength lay in his work orientated attitude - something which Gray admired, but didn't exactly hope to emulate. He was pretty sure he'd never get anywhere near that level of expertise, anyway.

Ann's blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as she regarded Cliff. "Ooh," she squeaked, sounding practically inhuman and very much unlike herself. "You can help me!" She thrust a rag at her boyfriend, before dragging him off towards the back room. "I think I've got a spare broom for you. Come on..."

Silence. Blissful, empty, unfilled silence.

Gray leaned back in his chair and let it wash over him. He would have to thank Cliff later for unwittingly distracting Ann. Or, of course, Duke for being such a total cheapskate when it came to heating bills.

* * *

On the long list of things Gray disliked, parties - especially the _very_ loud kind - were placed quite high. Contrary to what you might have heard, he wasn't completely anti-social - people in general were okay with him - but parties felt like such an obligation. And it was that which he disliked more than anything. Even more than the deafening racket and -

Gray shook his head and smiled to himself. Even the likes of _Cliff_ would be calling him Gramps if they could have heard that. Ever since getting together with Ann, Cliff had thought himself _it._

On the morning of Elli and Tim's wedding, Gray, who had dressed tidily but not fancily, woke up to an empty room and the sight of a snow covered Mineral Town. The dull grey of the horizon did not suggest a celebration to him.

He found Ann and Cliff preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Now, _they_ were dressed fancily. Surprisingly so. "I feel under-dressed now," Gray grumbled to himself, as he flopped down at the table where Doug, Ann's father, was already sat. "And are you wearing a _skirt,_ Ann?"

"Yes." The tone of her voice suggested she wasn't exactly happy, either.

Doug glanced knowingly over his paper at Cliff, who refused to glance back. He sighed audibly. "It'd be nice if you'd just act a little more like a lady, Ann," Doug said. "All this yelling and joking and tearing about; aren't you _ever_ going to grow up? It's just not how a young woman should behave."

Poor Doug... Gray even felt a tiny bit sorry for him, but was he _ever_ going to learn? Just as Ann refused to act _proper _and _ladylike,_ Doug refused to accept his daughter for who she was and very much _wanted_ to be. It was a never-ending cycle. The skirt didn't flatter Ann as it was supposed to and she wore it as if she was well aware of this fact. Uncomfortable wasn't the word.

After that, breakfast became a distinctly stony affair. If Ann had shouted, it would at least have released the building tensions - but for once she was able to bite her lip, only going so far as to throw her father's breakfast down in front of him before stalking back to the kitchen. Cliff stared after her helplessly, rooted to his chair. Like Gray he was wearing a crumpled, never-before-seen tie - though, unlike his friend, he twined it nervously between his fingers.

Sometimes, when he saw Cliff acting like a startled cat, choosing his words with ridiculous care and skirting around Ann's fiery personality, Gray couldn't help feeling awash with sweet relief at still being single. It seemed far easier by comparison, sometimes. But he only had to think of Mary, for her soft, gentle image to chase away those thoughts. Maybe that was how it was for Cliff. Maybe all he had to do was focus on Ann's sparkling blue eyes, or her endearing freckles, or whatever it was he loved about her in particular... and that was enough. Maybe he just didn't want to screw things up yet.

Gray supposed he would be wary of doing the same, should he ever have ended up with Mary. First of all, he'd have to make sure he wasn't simply dreaming - and then, and _only_ then, would he do absolutely anything to stop her slipping away. Cat impersonations and all.

* * *

The wedding turned out okay. Not bad. Pretty average.

...And any other uninspired, un_romantic_ terms Gray could possibly think up. As far as he was concerned, weddings were always one of two things. Either fine or else simply excruciating. He wasn't being deliberately awkward or grim for the sake of it; merely factual. Of the few weddings Gray had been invited to, not one had he truly, _honestly_ enjoyed. Why he couldn't quite say, but they almost made him feel as though he wasn't supposed to be there. Like an imposter.

_Anyway,_ parties. Yes. They fell into pretty much the same bracket, though actually, Elli and Tim's reception wasn't as bad as he'd expected. Doug had put on another amazing spread, Ann was showing off her own peculiar dance-style and Cliff, thankfully, was skulking at his side.

"It's not that I don't want to dance with her," Cliff kept saying, while Gray humoured him. "It's just... my feet."

"Yeah?"

"I can't risk breaking them," he explained. "Not in my line of work."

At that moment, Gray was forced to hide his laughter behind a hacking cough. _My line of work- ?_ Moving barrels from one place to another was hardly what Gray would call challenging, but he reasoned that, maybe, with crutches it might be more 'interesting'.

"Fair point," he agreed eventually, as Ann pulled a reluctant Duke into furious tango.

So, all in all, it certainly wasn't _worst_ party Gray had ever attended. Could have been better, could have been worse by far. But _certainly,_ it could have been better...

"Have you decided on a name yet?" he heard Popuri coo. She, Sasha, Anna, Lillia, Rick and Karen were all crowded around a beaming Jack. Mary was not at the party at all, though Gray recalled spotting a sheet of long, black hair through the crowds in the church.

"Well, we don't know whether we're having a boy or a girl yet," Jack answered, laughing. He leaned casually back in his chair, while Popuri giggled. Gray ached to watch him. He wanted to scowl, but somehow he couldn't. He was awed.

Imagining himself in Jack's position, effortlessly confident, fingers twining through thick, dark hair, as people hung on his every word, was... utterly impossible. They were worlds apart. Jack didn't just have Mary, he had everything.

"And which would you rather?" Sasha asked curiously. "A boy or a girl?"

Jack considered carefully, barely able to conceal his rampant pride. "Either would be fine, as long as it's healthy," he admitted to the groans of those around him. "_But... _I have to confess, I would love a son. Mary's more impartial really, though I think she'd like a little girl."

The groans were replaced by a series of sickly sighs. Gray turned to Cliff, hoping to gage his friend's opinion, only to find him completely tuned out of the conversation. Instead, Cliff's glazed eyes were staring through the dancers, at Ann. She was leaping around eagerly, in her element.

Gray smirked and shook Cliff's shoulder. "Go and dance with her," he said quietly, scarcely raising his voice above the steady thump of the music. "Go on. You clearly want to."

Of course, Cliff was ever indecisive and twitchy. "I'm going anyway," Gray told him, surprising even himself.

Cliff's eyes snapped away from Ann in an instant. "Going?" he echoed. "Where?"

_Good point that,_ Gray mused_, where? _"Just for a walk," he finally shrugged. The words slipped out very easily. "It's too hot in here. Too loud." He spun and headed for the front door without further explanation, confident that he appeared directionless.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. He knew _exactly_ where he was going.


	7. Chapter 6: Green Eyed

**Disclaimer: **Harvest Moon is not mine. Still.

**Author's note:** Well, this has to be one of my fastest updates in ages! So, without having to give my usual apologies/excuses, I haven't really got much else to say. Enjoy, and don't forget, reviews are always valued.

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Green Eyed

Gray slipped swiftly and silently out into the night. The bitter cold surprised him, somehow, as though he'd forgotten it was even Winter. Ice slipped beaneath his feet as sharp snowflakes whipped about in a frenzy.

Was this crazy? The fierce weather only provided another reason why heading to the farm to see Mary was pure madness. He couldn't begin to imagine what he would say to her, how he would justify his sudden appearence.

But then... he only wanted to _see_ her. As a friend. What was so wrong with that?

For far too long now, Gray had ignored their past friendship in favour of another kind of longing. He had ignored _her,_ really, imagining that it would make things easier.

It hadn't. All it had done was left a void inside him, and he missed her, whether romantically or platonically... he missed her. It couldn't be more simple. Or more painful.

After what must have been ten, fifteen minutes spent hesitating, letting the snowflakes coat his hair, Gray felt his rush of determination fading away. Behind it, only a faint trace of embarrassment remained. _All talk and no action..._

"I hate parties," he growled to himself, trying to find some outlet for his anger.

"So, what _don't _you hate?"

Gray wheeled around indignantly, shock and adrenaline tingling through his veins. "Oh for Goddess _sake, _Ann - "

He stopped. It wasn't Ann. Where he expected to see flame-red hair and blue eyes alight with childish mirth, he focused instead on long, loose blonde hair. And green eyes. _Not _Ann's.

Karen laughed huffily and emerged from the doorway. As she did so, the door swung shut behind her, reducing the party music to a dull buzz and eclipsing the flood of light which had briefly illuminated the freshly fallen snow.

"Oh, sorry," Gray mumbled, genuinely sheepish. He ducked his head under the flimsy pretence of avoiding the snow showers. They were actually beginning to calm down now.

"Why d'you hate parties, then?" Karen asked, pretending as though his lame apology had never happened.

He could ask her the same question really. Why had _she_ left the celebration? Karen was well-known around Mineral Town as one of the Inn's most dedicated regulars; many nights had ended with her long-time boyfriend, Rick, as good as carrying her home from the bar. Even now an empty beer bottle was swinging from her slender fingers.

Yet here she was, lingering on the outskirts of the fun, just like he was.

Gray brushed the tip of his tongue thoughtfully over his front teeth, as he attempted to muster a decent reply. "I just... don't feel in the mood tonight," he finished eventually, adding a would-be, nonchalant shrug. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

Karen, thankfully, seemed to accept this and nodded. "Mmm, same."

_"Really?"_ Gray's thoughts were racing too fast for him to acknowledge the fact that he was openly gawping at her. For one wildly enjoyable moment, he almost let himself believe that she, too, had grown tired of Jack's boasting.

_Or, as the less cynical might call it: displaying the natural excitement of an expectant parent. _

As it was, however, Gray didn't include himself in that particular group. He noticed Karen was looking at him strangely, one eyebrow raised, and he turned away very abruptly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gray saw that she was shaking her head. "Yeah," she said slowly. "It was a lovely wedding an' all, but not much of a party..."

_Ah_. Gray allowed himself a tiny, internal grin. So she was actually his complete opposite. While he found parties an irritation, she evidently relished them. This one, it seemed, was merely a bore.

"And Popuri's being a real pain tonight," Karen continued, her frown audible in her voice. Forgetting himself, but remembering the pink-haired girl's doe-eyed squeals, Gray couldn't help nodding a fraction too enthusiastically.

Karen's sharp laughter pierced the icy air. "You think so too?" she grinned.

As he didn't particularly enjoy being put on the spot, Gray was unable to prevent his cheeks glowing stupidly. Yes, Popuri had been annoying, but he wasn't sure how he could say it without unleashing a venomous rant in Jack's general direction. But at least he could blame his embarrassment and subsequent burning cheeks on the awful weather. "Well, she - she was - um, quite - " he stammered, then trailed off, words lost in the wind.

"I'm goin' back inside," Karen announced suddenly, turning for the door. "She might be a pain, but I guess she does have reason..." The door opened and she disappeared inside before Gray could get a word out.

It was lucky, he mused, that he was aware of Popuri's crush on Kai and the fact that she was undoubtedly missing him, as he only visited in the Summer. Gray was vaguely thankful that Cliff and Ann weren't as frivolous with his love life - or lack of.

But then everyone knew about Kai and Popuri; the girl was laughably obvious at times. Chuckling lightly to himself, Gray followed Karen inside.

* * *

"I can't believe you're actually saying this! How can you side with him?"

"It's - It's not like that, Ann. You're twisting my words completely!"

"I am _NOT! _And anyway, you're not _denying_ that you agree with him, are you?"

"Well, I - well - "

_Clang. _CRASH. It was the unmistakeable sound of cutlery bouncing off the kitchen walls that Gray could not ignore. Sitting up warily and pulling the pillow off his head, he listened intently for further sounds of unrest below. Why did they have to do this now? His and Cliff's room was still shrouded in darkness, for Goddess sake! He groped for the alarm clock on his bedside table and groaned when he realised it was barely seven.

Urgh. Shut up, _shut up!_

They didn't. Covering his ears with the thick pillow helped to muffle the shouts, but it didn't erase them completely. He wondered how, on the morning after a party, they could have such abundant energy. How were they even _awake?! _Oh, how he'd love to be asleep right about now...

The door was thrown open forcefully, so much so that its ancient hinges squealed in protest. Gray realised he could pretty much forget about sleep, as he watched Cliff stalk angrily over the threshold. It was so unlike him, in fact, that he was rendered speechless.

His friend's normally pale skin was flushed an ugly, violent crimson and what looked set to be massive bruise was rapidly starting to form over his right eye. Ann, it seemed, was a brilliant aim.

Gray tried to stop staring, but failed miserably. He thought it would be wiser to let Cliff speak first, rather that poking and prodding around, making it seem as though as he was fishing for gossip. But that was easier said than done. Cliff was stonily silent and outwardly emotionless. Whatever he was feeling, whatever had happened... he clearly didn't want to share it with Gray just yet.

He started to sort through the drawers of his bedside cabinet with unnecessary fuss and clatter, ignorant of Gray who was gaping at his back still wondering what he could possibly say. Unfortunately for the blacksmith, Cliff whipped around at just the wrong moment and caught him in the middle of an open-mouthed, goldfish impression. A very good one.

"What?" Cliff snapped - again, uncharacteristically.

Gray blinked in shock. "N - nothing! Just wondered what on earth was going on, that's all." He paused somewhat nervously and, when Cliff _didn't_ bite his head off, continued, "And forgive me for overhearing that _quiet_, _private _argument and - Ow!"

All he got for hs trouble was shoe to the head. Clearly, Cliff wasn't such a bad aim either.

"Seriously," he said, flinging the shoe back. "What the hell were you guys yelling about? I know Ann can be fiery, but that sounded ridiculous."

Gray waited for an explosion that never came. Instead, Cliff sank wearily onto the edge of his bed and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's all a bit stupid, really. Well, we were up late - "

"You never got to bed!"

"Er, _very_ late then. Anyway, you remember Doug saying that Ann should be more ladylike?"

"Yes..."

"Well I sort of, um, said that _I thought he had a point,"_ Cliff explained, all in one long rush. And not without good reason. Implying that Ann needed to be more feminine was breaking the unwritten rule. You certainly didn't do it lightly.

"What did you do a mad thing like that for?" Gray asked, half-laughing.

"Because... I thought maybe he had a point."

Silence. He hadn't expected _that_ answer. Gray raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Do you really think that?" he demanded, wondering how Cliff had ended up with Ann in the first place if he truly felt that way. For reasons he couldn't yet fathom, the whole thing left him faintly irritated.

Cliff, however, appeared to have gone far past that stage. He jumped to his feet, as Gray scrambled to do likewise. All of a sudden, Gray was very aware of the fact that Cliff was slightly taller and also of his cheek throbbing where the shoe had hit it.

"Look, it's really none of your business," Cliff replied shortly, his eyes narrowed. "Why all the interest and the questions? She's _my_ girlfriend!"

The faint trace of irritation erupted into boiling fury. He felt it burning, clawing at the inside of his throat, then pouring out as poisoned words. "Not for much longer," Gray snarled. "Not with that kind of attitude. I'm only saying all this 'cause I don't want you to throw away a perfectly good relationship, okay? What's so wrong with that?"

"I think you're just jealous," Cliff shot back. Even _he_ looked a little surprised that he'd actually said it, but it didn't stop him continuing, "Things have worked out for me, right, and you just can't stand it - "

Gray didn't wait to hear anymore. A small part of him wanted to furiously defend himself, but he couldn't do it. Couldn't bring himself to lie so blatantly; Cliff was bound to see straight through him. He whirled around, away from his friend, and started throwing on the first clothes he came to. Seconds later, Gray was striding down the corridor as the door banged shut behind him.

Whenever he was in a blind fury such as this, there was only ever one place his angry wanderings would take him. So, after an hour spent meandering through the snowy streets of Mineral Town, Gary was hardly surprised to find himself stood longingly outside the library.

His hand reached automatically for the door handle, only to remember that it was probably barely half-past eight and that the library wouldn't be open for at least a couple of hours. Gray stepped back reluctantly, watching his breath swirl as mist into the sharp, clear-as-crystal morning air. It didn't say much for his ability to leave the past in its rightful place, if his only sanctuary was _still_ with the now married girl of his dreams.

Footsteps crunched along the icy path behind him, but he didn't dare look around.

"A visitor here _before_ opening time?" said a soft, amused voice. "Now that _has_ to be some kind of record."

"Hello, Mary." He smiled weakly as she drew up beside him. Mary was adorned from head to toe in an array of wintery clothes. The inevitable baby bump was hidden beneath a thick, woollen, midnight-blue coat, complete with what Gray believed to be ludicrously oversized buttons. A long emerald scarf and matching gloves finished the outfit.

After just one glance at her, Gray had, at least, the decency to look ashamed by his own messy, crumpled attire. His unbrushed hair, his unbrushed _teeth... _Eurgh. He'd have to try and ignore that one.

"What are you doing out here so early?" he wondered aloud, gesturing towards the sign taped to the library door. "You're not supposed to open 'til ten."

Mary's smile widened even further - it had never truly faded - and she pulled a small, silver key from her pocket. "I often come in early," she explained, whilst slowly unlocking the door. "Jack starts work at about six o'clock, so I'm usually just drifting about by myself. I find myself more inspired here. Perhaps it's the smell of books; I don't know."

"Inspired?" Gray asked her, confused, as the door swung forward.

"Did I not tell you about the book I'm writing?" Mary turned to head inside, indicating for Gray to follow. When he hesitated, she added, "Come on now, Gray. I don't care how annoyed you're feeling this morning, it's far too cold for you to be leaving the door open!"

She vanished indoors, leaving Gray red-faced and gaping. But after only the briefest of pauses, he found himself shuffling after her like an obedient puppy. He couldn't help reminding himself that if anyone _else_ had said that, he'd have been quick to bite their head off. With Mary it was simply different.

A strong, musky, bookish scent assaulted Gray's nostrils immediately when he stepped into the library. He had not been there for so long now that it smelt almost alien to him, but the homely sight of old books, rickety shelves and comfy armchairs left him more than willing to re-adjust.

Mary was still talking about her novel. "Yes, I've been working on it for a while now," she explained, shuffling and sorting papers behind her desk, as Gray watched, mesmerised. "I'm sure I must have mentioned it to you." She seemed oddly disconcerted in thinking she hadn't, but Gray honestly couldn't recall ever discussing it.

Mary's eyes met his and, for the first time so far, her smile faltered and her pretty face creased into a definite frown. "Gray - forgive me for asking, but why to you have a footprint shaped bruise?"

"Oh!" How to answer _that?_ "Cliff and I had a bit of a... a disagreement."

"Ah." Ever tactful, Mary didn't dwell on it - despite such a bruise undoubtedly raising certain questions. "Anyway, the novel. It's nearing the final stages now and I was wondering if... if you'd like to read it?"

_"Me?"_ As his tone suggested, Gray was wondering just why she'd chosen him of all people. Why not Jack? Unless, of course, Jack had already read it. Yes, that made sense. He was probably just a second opinion. "I don't know - what to - say," Gray finally stuttered.

"Yes?" Mary suggested sadly. Her grey eyes were shimmering. "I thought you liked books, Gray..."

So, of course, he could give only one answer:

"Yes."

Mary's face relaxed at last and she handed him a large stack of papers. (They were entitled: _Manuscript - Roses And Thorns_). "Thank you, Gray," she beamed. "You know, I really did think you ought to read it."

_What an odd thing to say,_ Gray thought, as he retired to one of the armchairs_, very odd._


	8. Chapter 7: Flower Girl

**Disclaimer:** Harvest Moon is not mine.

**Author's note: **There really is _no _good excuse for the ridiculous lateness of this chapter. I recently realised that I wrote the first part of this chapter when it was still _snowing._ It is now July, which pretty much sums me up. Oh well, what can I say? At least I'm still carrying on, I guess. Big thanks to: **Awesome Rapidash**, **sugarapplesweet** and **sarsak**, as feedback is always appreciated! :)

* * *

Flower Girl

"Could I please take it away with me, Mary?" Gray had asked. "I haven't managed to read very far yet..."

_A lie_. Well, a half-truth at the very least. He actually hadn't made a great deal of progress with the manuscript, but not for the reasons Mary was probably imagining. She had smiled and said 'yes, of course', the only stipulation being that he would give her his honest verdict when he'd finished.

Now _that_ would be the tricky part. It wasn't that Mary's novel was poorly written. Not at all. Gray was no real literature lover - he only really liked books because she did - but even _he_ could see that Mary had talent. Her words flowed smoothly across the pages, appearing just as professional, he happened to think, as anything you'd find on a bookshelf. But then he was no literature lover - and perhaps a little biased.

No, it was the topic of the book that had left Gray stumped. Put it this way... he liked factual books, adventures and even the occasional mystery. But like any other guy feigning an interest in books to impress a pretty girl - there couldn't be _too_ many of them, surely - he certainly had his limits.

Romance, of any description whatsoever, was his. And what had Mary named her heroine? _Rose. _

Oh, yes. And she was a sweet enough girl, poor Rose. He wanted to care about her, honestly, but it was difficult to plough through a story that simply didn't interest him. "I'll see you soon, Gray!" Mary called after him as he left the library, her voice carrying a strangely hopeful note, that he couldn't - and didn't try to - decipher.

Gray smiled and nodded, though his cheery mood vanished without a trace the second the door slammed behind him. He walked straight back to the Inn, the papers tucked under his arm, aware that it was lunch time and the place would be absolutely bustling - but also aware that he had nowhere else to go. Despite living so near to his grandfather, the two were not at all _emotionally_ connected. They irritated one another far too much at work to want to spend their free time in each other's comapny as well. The Inn was the only home Gray had so, argument or not, he had no choice but to return there.

As expected, he was greeted by an instant barrage of noise: the usual rumble of chatter and Ann's unmistakeably raucous laugh, as she dashed about taking orders and serving meals in impossibly quick time.

You might assume, given their turbulent argument just hours ago, that Ann's buoyant mood was a good sign, a brilliant one, in fact. They've made up, you'd surely assume... right? _Alas no, _Gray thought. He knew from experience that _nothing_ stopped Ann. She'd bite your head off one minute, become your best friend the next. _Anything,_ as long as the Inn stayed in business. Ann simply didn't believe that personal problems had any place in the world of work. From the jokey smile on her face as she served Gotz his beer, you might mistake her for a recently engaged woman. But Gray was well aware that they might just as easily have broken up.

You never could tell.

Gray moved swiftly through the tables towards the bar, where Doug was stood waiting. "Alright," he said, greeting the blacksmith with a curt nod. Gray replied with a wordless shrug. He was not one for pretences.

Doug smiled sympathetically, as he wiped dirty glasses. "I didn't get a minute's sleep last night either," he informed him in an undertone, dropping his voice even lower when Ann bounced up to the counter to pass on an order.

"Hi, Gray," she trilled cheerily, just as he'd predicted. It was as if nothing had happened. "Manna wants a salad and mineral water, Dad," she added, and was half-way to bounding off again, when she noticed the wad of papers still tucked under Gray's arm.

She frowned. "What you got there, Gray?"

"Um... " He searched around his head for a lie, only to realise there wasn't one. "Mary gave them to me; it's an outline for her novel."

"Ooh!" Gray could also have predicted exactly how Ann's eyebrows would shoot up at the mention of Mary's name, but it didn't annoy him any the less when it actually happened. "Mary, eh?" she whispered, leaning close; her breath itched against his ear and he squirmed away, irritated. "Hanging around Mary again, were you?"

_"No, _Iwasn't! It's none of your business!" Gray leapt up both out of indignation and a desire to run for dear life once he'd made a cutting remark about her earlier explosion. Assuming he could think of one first, of course...

A grin unfolded across Ann's face, lighting up her eyes from behind. Gray was familiar with that look - and he feared it. "Well, you must have done something, Gray." She shrugged and flipped a white tea towel over her shoulder. "Mary doesn't show off her work to just anyone. She only allows her closest friends."

"If she gets published, she'll have no choice, but to let 'just anyone' read it," Gray retorted. Was it his imagination or did Ann over-emphasise the word 'friend'there? Knowing Ann, who had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, it was probably the latter.

"So," he blurted out, before she could turn away. "Have you read it?"

Ann looked suitably surprised; he knew full well that she wasn't a big fan of the printed word, and that was putting it lightly. "No," she admitted. "Romance? No thanks, not my scene at all. I told Mary straight. We had a laugh about it and she sent me on my way with a pile of the most gruesome horror stories she could find."

Gray laughed along with her, but felt the smile melt off his face the minute she walked away. How he wished he'd simply had the courage to say the same.

* * *

As a kid, Gray had always been the quiet one in the classroom. He wasn't always comfortable letting the chatter of others just wash over him; it was simply the easier option.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though Cliff played the exact same kid in his school. And as Gray was currently discovering, this led to a painfully awkward confrontation between the two. Neither would talk, and both needed to.

The blacksmith hovered in the doorway of their shared room. Across from him, on the bed beside the window, sat Cliff, a silouette against the snowy background. Gray broke the silence with a cough, then followed it up with an exasperated sigh when Cliff didn't so much as glance up. Finally, when he was on the verge of giving up and heading back along that corridor, Cliff leapt abruptly to his feet and gestured for his friend to enter.

And because, deep down, he did want to make amends - but mainly because he didn't fancy being struck with another shoe today - Gray shuffled dutifully into the room. He raised his head a fraction to nod in Cliff's general direction. "Look, Cliff... I'm sorry... about earlier, and what I said... " The words stumbled out awkwardly; apparently, apologising in the face of Cliff's silence was no easier than standing up to his anger.

Moments slipped by, then Cliff exhaled heavily. "But it's not you," he explained. "It's Ann."

Gray's fingers paused in the motion of tracing the ugly bruise colouring his cheek bone. He frowned. "What? So you still haven't made up with her?"

"Well. Yes. That's kind of the whole problem."

There was a long pause, in which Gray struggled, mentally, to understand what Cliff was getting at. He loved Ann - didn't he? - so it made no sense. For as long as Gray and Cliff had been living together at the Inn, there had been a definite spark between the lost traveller and the hot-headed barmaid. Even Gray, dense as he was romantically, could clearly see the attraction. Cliff didn't blush _that _shade of crimson for just anyone. "What do you mean?" he asked eventually.

"I mean... well, sometimes... it just seems that Ann doesn't take our relationship all that seriously." Cliff's words rushed out almost too quickly, as if he was simply relieved to tell someone how he truly felt.

Gray merely felt out of his depth and wearily massaged his temples. Now Mary, she was _great_ at all this Agony Aunt business. She'd helped Gray many a time, never realising that she was nearly always the true source of his anxiety.

He shook his head a fraction and turned to Cliff, trying to focus not on the past, but on Ann - the _important _things. Flopping down on his bed, he asked, "What d'you mean she doesn't take things seriously?"

Getting answers from Cliff was like drawing blood from a stone. He needed to be pushed all the way to reveal even the slightest imformation, and even then Gray found it pointless. And honestly? He already _knew _what Cliff meant. Was it possible that Cliff cared more about their relationship than Ann did? Definitely, Gray thought.

To put it in its simplest form: could he love her more than she loved him?

Cliff sat on his own bed, opposite Gray. "We're like polar opposites, you know? She's so loud, a little crazy sometimes, and... _confident." _It didn't take a genius to notice the wistful tone Cliff had adopted and Gray realised he was merely listing the qualities he wished he possesed. "And then there's me," Cliff added, stuggling to fight off self-pity. "You know I love Ann, but - "

"Does _she?"_ Gray interrupted.

"Does she what?"

"Does she _know_ you love her? Maybe she's not exactly taking this seriously because she doesn't realise there's anything to get serious about. You know what Ann's like; she's not the most romantically aware." That applied to Gray, too. It had taken him _weeks_ to understand that he wasn't sick or allergic to the books; simply in love with the quiet librarian who guarded them. Of course, that said, there was really nothing simple about it.

Cliff shook his head and fixed Gray a hard look. "I don't know," he answered eventually, more upbeat suddenly, as if he'd realised that his problems weren't quite as significant as he'd initially imagined.

And in the end Gray didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed that someone else's fairytale ending wasn't as perfect as it appeared on first glance.

* * *

The first nigglings of guilt captured Gray at two o'clock precisely - in the _morning_. He was _not _pleased, to put it lightly. Mineral Town was still clinging onto the final death throes of winter, leaving his bed as warm and appealing as freshly burnt toast.

If his mind hadn't been wired up to an invisible television set, one which played his thoughts on fastest fast-forward, Gray could've easily settled down for a few more hours sleep. On the other side of the room Cliff lay snoring lightly, obviously untroubled. Gray often wondered what it would be like to switch places with his friend, but the thought of having to cope with Ann usually dissuaded him.

Ann was fire.

He let his head dive-bomb onto the pillow, feeling no less awake. No doubt he'd keel over tomorrow morning - _today,_ actually - in the blistering heat of the Smithy. That'd give Saibara something different to complain about, if nothing else. Normally it was, "Yer head's in the clouds, son. Daydreaming again, were you? About a pretty girl, no doubt? Women don't like a dreamer - " How the _hell_ should _he_ know? " - They want a proper man!"

_Read it._

Gray rolled onto his side, paused, and rolled onto his stomach. He tugged his sheets over his shoulder, he let them rest on his hip, he threw them off altogether. _Then, _admitting defeat, he reached below his bed and fumbled for a stack of papers that had been left to gather dust.

"Gray, for the _love _of - " Cliff bolted up in bed. "Shut _up!"_

* * *

The Blacksmith's had a smell that was hard to define. Metal, sweat and dirt. It emanated heat.

Gray stared loosely at a dull wodge of metal, soon to be transformed into a glittering success of a bracelet. Much like a butterfly or a swan.

He had to bite back a snicker; Saibara was right then, he _was_ becoming stupidly dreamy and poetic. Swans and _bloody_ butterflies... Personally, he blamed Mary. Her damn seductive prose had sucked him in for at least an hour longer than he'd expected last night and, though he rocked tiredly on his heels, Gray's mind was still buzzing.

"You start work whenever you feel ready, Gray." His grandfather's curt, sarcastic tone filled the room. "You take your time."

Gray pulled a face at the older man and starting rifling through his tools. And then, as the door swung open, something entirely new entered. The sharp scent of winter blew in with another, stranger smell fast on its heels. _Flowers,_ he thought as Popuri crossed the threshold. Her sweet, floral fragrance was soon engulfed by the hot, stagnant air of the workshop.

Gray ignored her. He set to work, just as his grandpa had instructed. At the counter, an order for Popuri's family's chicken farm was discussed.

For a fraction of a second, Gray found her breathy voice irritating. He soon remembered that he was too exhausted even to be irritable, and relented, allowing it to wash over him in waves. She was actually a little soothing, in a way.

"Gray!" his grandfather barked. "Carry the lady's order home for her, will you?"

_What, can't Princess manage a little watering can all by herself?_ Gray longed to ask. But when he reached the counter and aimed an icy glare at the girl, he was surprised to meet sheepish, apologetic eyes.

They stepped outside into dazzling winter sunshine. "Sorry," Popuri said immediately, and when Gray didn't answer she giggled nervously. In only a couple of short strides, they crossed the road to stand in front of Poultry Farm.

Still fuming with his grandfather, Gray thrust the watering can at her. "Here you go," he muttered, "madam."

To his bewilderment, however, this made Popuri laugh outright. Her cheeks, he noticed, blushed the colour of her hair. "I _did_ say sorry," she pointed out, her fingers wrapping around the handle. "I don't _enjoy_ being treated like everybody's kid sister, you know."

Gray blinked at her, dazed. "Yeah, sure," he agreed, suddenly feeling the past, sleepless night catch up with him in an unexpected pulse of tiredness. He started to turn away, but Popuri pulled him back.

"Thanks." And then she kissed him.

It was so brief, it could have been a mere illusion. _And_ in the corner of his lips, of all places, as if she had just missed the place she was really aiming for. The question was: just where _had _she been aiming? Lips or cheek? There was a world of difference...

"Well..." Popuri smiled, as if she had done nothing out of the ordinary. "See you."

As soon as the door to the farmhouse clicked shut, Gray glanced around wildly, fearful that he was being watched. He was drawn to the windows of Poultry Farm where he half-expected to see a prying mother - or, worse, a furious older brother.

Thankfully, he found neither, so -

"GRAY!" _Holy Goddess. _The blacksmith leapt about a foot into the air at the sudden shout, only to spot Cliff stood across the street in the Vineyard, clutching a barrel and looking slack-jawed with shock. He looked how Gray felt, actually.

"Yes?"

"What the _hell,"_ Cliff mouthed, "was _that?!"_


	9. Chapter 8: Making People Happy

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harvest Moon.

**Author's note: **...

Don't know what happened with this chapter. I knew it was going to take me some time, given what I needed to include, but... _really?!_ I blame school; it's been crazy lately, which goes to show that I should have finished this in the summer. Ah well. Nevermind. :) Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and, err, sorry for taking my sweet time with this latest one!

* * *

Making People Happy

Gray did not know why Popuri had kissed him. He could neither guess nor presume, and eventually came to the conclusion that he was simply overreacting. Perhaps some girls were just that friendly? The only women he knew well were Ann and Mary - neither of whom were romantically forthcoming.

"She's on the rebound," Ann explained. Without warning, she whacked Gray around the head with the rolling pin she was using. "You leave her alone, okay? I know she's vulnerable and you're desperate, but get some restraint man!"

Gray could only glare; he didn't even know where to _begin _correcting that statement. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cliff - who was now tentatively back together with Ann, but still on shaky ground - grinning smugly. "Vulnerable?" he blustered. "Yeah, right. I must have missed the air of fragility in amongst the smiles and laughter and kissing of random men. Oh, and I'm _not _desperate."

"You really think so?" Ann sniggered. Then, sobering suddenly, she sighed. "Get _real,_ will you, Gray? Since Mary got married you've let your life come to a complete standstill. It has to stop. Now."

Upon the mention of Mary's name, the mood in the kitchen soured instantly. For Gray the knife's twist in his stomach had become akin to a reflex action. But one, he had to admit, that had certainly dulled.

Maybe Ann wasn't that far off the mark, after all.

"So," he summarised, stabbing at another, now lukewarm pancake, "I've got to move on, forget Mary, blah blah blah. How _easy!_ I've just got to _forget_ Mary. Makes you wonder why I never thought of that before, doesn't it?"

Ann met Gray's admittedly childish scowl with one of her own. "There's no need for sarcasm, y'know," she grumbled.

To everyone's shock - including his own - the blacksmith let rip an unchecked guffaw. "No, I don't know," he corrected them. "You two seem to be under the odd impression that I don't _want _to forget Mary. Well, I do - very much. It not a case of won't forget, it's a case of _can't." _

As with any unexpected outburst, an awkward silence is sure to follow. Cliff shuffled anxiously on his stool and shot a desperate look at the door, while Ann slapped her hands together, sending up a misty plume of flour. At that moment, Gray was just about ready to bolt, but Ann - as usual - seemed determined to have the last word. She sealed the oven door on her newly crafted pastry and fiddled with the heat settings.

"Can't, Gray?"

"Can't," he rasped. "Honest to Goddess."

She turned around slowly, just in time for Gray to witness a smile like a mother's - simultaneously soft, sad and gentle - flit across her features. "Try," Ann advised simply. "Try harder, Gray, that's all I'm saying."

* * *

Three days into the New Year, Cliff dropped his bombshell.

"Well?" He faltered. "Did you hear me, Gray? What do you think?"

Gray didn't answer at first. He continued to adjust his collar in the mirror; he'd been dressing for work when Cliff burst in with news that threatened to ruin his morning, if not his whole year. "Sorry, Cliff," he said. "I thought for a moment you'd gone crazy and announced you were going to ask Ann to marry you. But obviously I misheard, didn't I?" He tried - and probably failed - not to sound like he was pleading.

But Cliff only chuckled nervously. "Well no, I did say that. And yes, I'm going to propose to Ann."

The reflection in the mirror shook its head emphatically. Pulling down his cap, Gray turned, glowering, to face Cliff. "Tell me you're joking."

When Cliff's expression faded by several degrees, he knew he wouldn't be getting his wish. "What's the problem?"

Where to _begin?_ Gray thought. For starters, marraige wasn't a clue to hold together a turbulent relationship - and no one created more turbulence than Ann and Cliff; it was destined to end in disaster. Secondly, they'd been dating for, what, a matter of _weeks?_ If they'd managed a couple of _years_ without killing each other, then he might be impressed. Thirdly - yes, there was a thirdly - he had his doubts about what Ann's answer would be. To say Cliff would be gutted if she rejected him would be an understatement; hell, he was so sensitive he might even leave town altogether. And however Gray tended to act, he knew that deep down his roomate would leave behind a gaping hole.

Those were Gray's official reasons, at least. There was one more that he didn't like to entertain too much, if he could help it; one that made him seem selfish and bitter and single-minded.

His eventual conclusion was a rather flat, "Doesn't seem like a good idea, that's all," which of course, wasn't really an answer at all.

Cliff snorted incredulously.

"You know," Gray continued, gathering steam, "I don't think you've ever had a worse idea!"

"Is that the jealousy rearing its ugly head again?"

"Shut _up,_ Cliff." As usual, Gray hadn't taken long to reach the end of his tether. "I'm going to work."

He was almost at the door when Cliff called him back. "I've got the feather," he said simply, halting the blacksmith in his tracks.

_A feather..._ that changed everything. A _blue_ feather meant business. There were many things Gray wanted to ask - where did you get it? How much did it cost? - but what he actually asked was a surprise to both of them. "Can I - can I see it?"

Cliff was silent for a moment, calculating Gray's motives. Slowly, he leaned across and whipped open the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. There was nothing in it, strangely - except for a long, rectangular box. Cliff dropped it on his bed and beckoned Gray over: "Here... look... ". And with that, he lifted the lid.

Gray wasn't sure what exactly he had been expecting - some aura, some mystical glow, some_thing_ worthy of his excitement - but feather itself was decidedly ordinary. It was a deep, ocean blue and utterly pristine, with fluffy, electric tufts around the quill. All the same, it wasn't as though Gray had never seen an artificially coloured feather before. What was the big deal?

Cliff stroked the feather with a nervous reverence. "It cost me a few weeks wages," he admitted. "Worth it, obviously."

_But it wouldn't be, would it,_ Gray mused darkly_, if Ann said 'no'._ He decided not to voice that possibility; knowing Cliff, he was already dwelling on it.

Against his will, Gray found himself envisioning the precise moment of Jack and Mary's engagement. He proposed at the peak of Mother's Hill - or so said Manna, who knew all. Gray wouldn't have. He preferred the library, considered it _their _place, and knew that Mary would've agreed. It was _her_ place, before it was anyone else's, so accepting a marriage proposal there would be like the first step towards letting someone new into her world. Besides, she hated heights.

Anyway, _Jack's_ choice had its merits too, Gray supposed. And, well, it'd achieved the right result, hadn't it? Gray's knowledge of the proposal was limited to its location, but he could imagine the events well enough. Jack would be suave, as he always was. He would be sure of himself and he would say the right things. He wouldn't be surly or stutter; it would be, in a word, perfect...

At that moment, something struck Gray. If that day on Mother's Hill was perfection for Mary and he begrudged it, what did that make him? Suddenly, Jack's face fell away, leaving Mary's, bathed in the bluish glow of engagement.

_Nothing._

"Do you honestly think I'm making a mistake?" Cliff asked. Clearly, he needed Gray's approval more than he cared to admit.

"No," said Gray, fighting off a sigh. "Sometimes I think it pays to be impulsive." - A lesson he _should _have learned a long time ago, before it was too late.

_Still nothing._

"If you want to go for it," he continued, "and clearly you do, then I'm not going to stop you. But I'll, you know... be there to console or congratulate, whatever happens." Apparently, Cliff couldn't summon up an answer for that, while Gray was seized by the sudden urge to leave the room.

As he walked down the hall, the blacksmith mused on the fact that Ann was, at heart, a sensible woman; if she deemed the proposal ill-timed - and perhaps she had a damn good point - she'd simply say so, rather than throw away a perfectly good relationship.

And Gray felt surprisingly content to realise that his thoughts of Mary had ellicited no _other _thoughts. No happiness, but no real pain, either.

Nothing.

* * *

Things stayed that way. Gray hardly saw Mary as her pregnancy wore on throughtout the spring and into the very first days of summer. He supposed he should return her copy of _Roses and Thorns_, but he was still winding his way through it and somehow the idea never occured to him.

His days of 'pining' - as Ann often called them - were over. Recently, his mind had been occupied elsewhere.

Gray woke up on the seventh day of summer, as people tend to on the strangest of days, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. It was a Wednesday, but the Smithy was doing a slow trade, so he wasn't working, and it was only while aimlessly wandering the path towards North Mineral Town that he collided with Karen and everything changed.

She breathlessly explained that Mary had gone into labour behind her desk, and would he mind holding her hand until she could fetch Dr Tim who was off collecting herbs?

Gray's stomach churned at the very thought, but he hadn't time to question the practicality of the idea, before Karen was haring off towards Mother's Hill screaming, "Thanks", over her shoulder.

Mary barely glanced up when Gray slipped quietly into the library. "Where's... Jack?" she puffed.

Gray wanted to laugh, but found his throat blocked. "I was about to ask you the same question," he returned. "Why isn't he here?"

Mary grimaced painfully, gripping the edge of her desk with all the determination and ferocity of a bird of prey. Her knuckles were chalk-white. "He's away... on business... in Forget-Me-Not Valley. This - the baby - it's not supposed to happen yet. I need _Jack."_

Strangely, Gray felt as if he needed him, too. This was a situation for a husband, not someone who'd bumbled in unprepared, at the last moment. Jack had probably been anticipating this moment since the day Mary returned from the Clinic on that autumn morning, which seemed so long ago. It seemed unjust, almost, that he was about to miss it. "I'm sure he'll get here," Gray mumbled, seeking to reassure himself more than her.

"How _can _he if we've no way of contacting him?!"

Mmm, good point, that.

Gray half-shrugged, feeling more helpless by the second. "Well. It'll all be fine in the end, I'm sure." That was the second time Gray had claimed to be 'sure' of something; unfortunately, repeating it didn't make it any less of a lie.

He skirted around the desk and took her hand, as Karen had instructed, without waiting for the invitation. Surprise, if nothing else, appeared to distract Mary from her pain. She smiled, and whispered as lightly as possible, "Thank you, Gray. Thank you for being here."

He didn't answer.

"It's Thursday tomorrow," Mary commented, grimacing a little as she squeezed his fingers. "Remember how you would always pop by on a Thursday, your day off? Seems like another life entirely..."

"Well," Gray swallowed, "You're married and you've got a kid... almost. Things change. I'm busy on Thursday's now and - you know - "

Something that the blacksmith couldn't quite unravel shifted in Mary's grey eyes. "I'm glad things are going so well for you," she said.

"Well..." _Whatever makes you happy, _Gray thought. "...Things are good." He concentrated on her fingers, still twined with his own. "Now I think of it, I've still got your manuscript. You want it back?"

"Oh!" Was it his imagination or did Mary look as though she had forgotten the whole thing? "Oh, I'm actually not writing that anymore. It became obvious to me that it wasn't working. A bit too self-indulgent, I think."

Gray struggled around for an answer. Did liking it make him a know-nothing hack? When he opened his mouth to argue, Mary mirrored him. The only explanation she was able to offer, unfortunately, was an agonised gasp; so agonised actually that Gray reeled backwards and prayed that he wouldn't end up delivering this baby.

He was saved from that dubious honour by Elli, who chose that moment to bustle into the library and take charge of the situation. In the time it would've taken Gray to form a sentence, Mary had been pacified, helped along to the Clinic and was now enthusiastically dicussing names. Feeling very stupid, Gray sloped off to the canary-yellow, waiting room chairs. He had been relugated and felt both relieved _and _insulted.

After that, it all happened very quickly - though probably not in Mary's opinion. Karen soon returned with the doctor, while Jack staggered in only moments before little Austin's birth. According to Elli it _was _an unusually short labour for a first baby. Even so, it hadn't been quick enough for Gray, either, who felt like a third wheel. A fleeting glance at Karen (the fourth wheel?) told him she felt just as awkward.

It was a feeling that only intensified when Mary asked him to be Austin's godfather.

"M-Me? Why?"

"I have a million reasons, Gray, that I'm _far_ too tired to explain right now. Can't you just say 'yes' and make me happy?"

Of _course _he wanted to make her happy, but...

Karen winked at him. "I'm down to be godmother," she whispered.

"Well... erm... " Gray mumbled, not as easily convinced. He peered apprehensively at his proposed godson as he lay in his mother's arms. It seemed impossible to think that this child with a shock of fuzzy, dark hair - his mother's - and brown eyes - from his father - could have been the cause of so much anxiety.

"Erm," Gray said again.

Before he could continue, Mary jumped in. "Oh - thank you!"

Perhaps in her delirious state she had mistaken that for the 'yes' she so obviously craved. And perhaps, on some level he hadn't yet discovered, that was exactly what Gray meant.

* * *

Ann and Cliff were huddled around a table in the empty bar. Gray's entrance went unnoticed as their latest debate rumbled on; he lifted his eyes to the ceiling and waited. When at last Ann sat back, arms folded and eyebrows raised - indicating victory - he knew it was over.

"So," she said, attention turning to the blacksmith. "How was work?"

"Work? It wasn't on." He could have told them then, of course, but Gray deliberately held tight to the piece of news that was the one thing he held over them.

Ann's face contorted as if the concept of 'no work' was alien to her. "Not on?" she echoed. "Why?"

_"And_ you look pale," Cliff added unhelpfully.

"Work wasn't on because there _was_ no work - no orders. I've been at the Clinic, actually."

"Because you're pale?"

_"No, _Cliff, because Mary's had her baby - "

Ann was on her feet before he'd even finished his sentence. She fired questions like bullets: "When? How? Boy? Girl?"

"A little boy," Gray answered. "They've called him Austin. You can forget being godmother," he yelled after her, "Karen's already bagged that one."

"We'll see." Ann grinned wickedly and slammed the door behind her. In her absence, Gray could not hope to ignore Cliff's curious stare. Was it his twisted imagination or did couples start to act like each other after so long? Cliff, much like Ann, seemed to be severely lacking in sensitivity. He coughed once and then, when Gray attempted to sneak past, coughed louder.

"M_m?"_

"...Well?" Cliff prompted.

"Well, _what?" _Gray snapped. He was in no mood to listen to a man who'd just entered into a argument over wedding flowers. And lost. The corner of Gray's mouth twitched, involuntarily, into the ghost of a grin. "Trick Blues or Pink Cats?" he goaded.

Cliff's own smug smile faded slightly. "Trick Blues," he admitted gloomily. "Ann was pretty forceful; she wouldn't hear of anything _pink _at her wedding."

Folding his arms, Gray snorted, "She needs to grow up."

"She really does. Anyway," Cliff went on, gesturing at his fiancée's vacated seat, "tell me. What _were _you doing at the Clinic today? Hey, was there a paternity issue? Was he born wearing a UMA cap and a scowl?"

While Cliff sniggered like a fool, Gray made the decision not to acknowledge that last remark; in any case, his blazing cheeks were doing a fine job of that on their own. "I was simply being there for a friend," he explained, missing out the fact that he had been as good as dragged to the library.

Evidently humbled, Cliff didn't answer at first. He eventually coughed, "Good for you, then, mate." He didn't need to mention how painful the events of today must've been, but it drifted unsaid between the pair. "Why wasn't Jack there?" Cliff asked.

"Oh, he was."

"Okay. That's a bit of an odd mix... "

"Karen was there, too," Gray pointed out.

"Riiight... _Why?"_

_"I_ don't know, Cliff. It's been a long day."

"It's only four o'clock."

But Gray wasn't listening anymore. His eyes wandered over the pile of wedding photos that Cliff and Ann had been arguing about. On the final day of summer, at Mineral Town Church, they would be getting married; it seemed incredible. He thought of Mary and Jack, soon to be taking home their first child. He thought of Popuri, lonely no longer: Kai was home and their brief kiss was now a fading memory. He couldn't - didn't _like_ - to think anymore.

Cliff had been tidying away his wedding brochures. "You're quiet," he remarked, as if it were unusual.

"Hmm," Gray grunted. After a short pause, he convinced himself to open up. "Don't take this too personally, Cliff, but... I'm not all that sure I'll be able to make the wedding."

As you'd expect, Cliff looked genuinely taken-aback. Then, misunderstanding, he laughed. "When I said you weren't invited unless you found a date, I was _joking."_

Gray wasn't. In fact, this sudden determination he felt was empowering. When was the last time he'd been truly, whole-heartedly focused on something? _Too _long ago. He _needed _this, and Cliff and Ann and his grandfather were just going to have to adjust.

"I need to get away."


End file.
